It is my birthday so I bike to your garden plot alone
I take your celery
The very same from which you have been so kind to offer a piece from here or there
That again and again I politely decline
But no, I take all of it

Witnessed by a lone chipmunk, gawking
Huge plants full on your summers attention
Now snatched into a bulging bag near too large for travel
Weighed down, a bandit
I speed home with a hunger
Attempting to consume many
My hands full of stalks, grasping handlebars
Darting jauntily
An endeavor
The juice runs over my chin to my peddling feet
The fibers becoming balled and tangled in my mouth, chewing
Too large, unmanageable. I'm thwarted.
Still chewing, I muse on your
maybe elaborate
prank.